And The Story Goes
by CmaHazelstar
Summary: Silloria Nightowl is a sixteen year old Night Elf with rotten luck. Of course, there were worse things than bad luck- war, death, hunger, and of course, slavery to the Horde. Not that her luck was that bad- right? Daranian Sharpfang was quite the odd Blood Elf- one of the few who believed in faction unity. But, honestly, how likely is that to happen in a world with Hellscream?
1. Silloria Nightowl

Silloria, quite literally, woke up on the wrong side of the bed. She knew this while she free fell through the last fifteen feet to the ground. Impact hurt quite a bit, but she got right back up, running around to the front of the tree. And right into a bench at the ressurection circle- Silloria had always thought the Cenarion Cirle used it sometimes, though her aunt wouldn't tell her about what happened in relation to the Circle. It wasn't Silloria's fault that she ran into the stone, though. Shadowglen was foreign to her. She did grow up in Lor' Danel after all. But today was special, and Alanania- Silloria's aunt- needed a few things for the ceremony. Now, you have to understand something about Silloria's aunt before you read any further, and that is that she was strange. Unlike her sister, she was a strong, independant woman who didn't care what others had a necklace around her neck, mostly made of emeralds but not flashy enough to draw attention, that seemed to glow slightly when anger struck. She was recently a member of the Inner Cenarion Circle and of project D.O.O.M. No such thing as project doom or the the inner circle? Yeah, just keep thinking that. No one will bother to disagree if they want to stay alive.

Silloria finally found her way through the dark night to her room and crawled back into bed. She closed her eyes for five minutes, and then she opened them again. The sun began to rise outside. "Oh, now you come up?" She muttered angrily. Silloria Nightowl hated Shadowglen with a burning passion. She had already gotted two black eyes from a theif who she disarmed with ease, a bug bite on her right arm from the biggest spider she'd ever seen, and a bite scar from a boar who didn't understand how to die. Now, looking down at her left leg, she laughed dryly. "I thought it was roses that were supposed to have thorns, not trees." She groaned. Silloria immediately went about inspecting the thorn wound. The entire tree had been overgrown with the things, some poisonous enough to kill a bird on contact. Would 've been just her luck, too, to get hit by one of those. They would make excellent poison to dip arrows or knives , really. But no one wanted to deal with that kind of thing- it wouldn't cross a Night Elf's mind to prepare for war if Hellscream was charging straight at them yelling "FOR THE HORDE!". Aunt Alanania had always taught Silloria differently, though. Backing down for the sake of peace wasn't the only way to handle things. Even though it might be easier to do something, that didn't make it right. "But Silloria," Her aunt had once said, "Sometimes it's going to be hard to back down. Your pride won't let that happen easily. Sometimes, you have to know when to fight and when to give in. You have to pick your battles."

While Silloria inspected the leg wound, she was temporarily unaware of her auntwatching her from the door, playing with the green chain around her neck. She smiled at her niece, proud of her in every way a mentor should've been. That the teenager was only getting a wound from the tree now, however, was a miracle. Most people that didn't grow up in Shadowglen fell out of the tree eventually. It wasn't their fault, and the healers could easily fix it. But Alanania was curious what her niece would do. When Silloria looked up and saw her aunt she frowed. "I don't suppose you planned to help me." She sighed when her aunt nodded in agreement. "I thought so. Well, could you at least get me some spring water? And I need earth root, powdered. Possibly silverleaf?" The girl named all these thing her aunt knew would help, but she was forgetting something. "Oh! I need some bandages, too. Have to close it up afterwards." There it was. The druid looked at her niece, smiling. "Uh, today would be nice. I've already lost a lot of blood, and I don't need an infection." Alanania nodded and rushed off to get the herbs and bandages. A priestess walked by the door shortly afterward and nearly fainted. "I'm fine," Silloria smiled. "I just fell out the window." That didn't seem to help at all, because the preistess pulled out a staff to do healing magic. "No, really I'm just waiting on my aunt alanania to get my herbs and bandages. She should be back soon," The preistess lowered her staff.

"Alanania?" She smiled, but it seemed a little forced. "You're her niece?" Everywhere she went, Silloria had to explain that, yes, Alanania was her aunt, and no, she didn't know if the legends were true about Alanania's dragon, and that no, she couldn't ever want to be a druid because they were more tree hugger-like than Night Elves already were. It got rather exhausting to deal with it all the time, but it was part of life. Everyone seemed taken aback by the fact this scrawny teenager could be related to the great druid Alanania. Soon Alanania returned, in her hands everything that had been asked for, and Silloria got to work.

Within two hours, they were back in Lor' Danel. Silloria could smell the sea in the air and she could see the forest not far from there. She grimanced, thinking of the challenge ahead of her. Her leg was almost completely healed now,thanks to a mixture of magic and special medicines. It was odd to see so many people looking at her will venom. Most of the town had loved Silloria as a child. But she knew none of them wanted her to come out of the forest alive, except maybe her closest friends. But, this small hope left her when she saw them huddled together by the huge guardian of the camp. It wasn't like Silloria could blame them for staying away from her- she was the product of a broken tradition. This whole ceremony was once a tradition, and now it wasn't done except for people like her. People who were born before their parents were married. It was dreadful to deal with, especially since both her parents were split between being the loving parents they should've been and hating Silloria for bringing shame with her birth. As if she could help when she was born, or that her parents were stupid enough to.. to do it before they were actually married.

"Dentaria?" Alanania poked her head into a room at the top of the supply hall. "Dentaria, are you in there?"Dentaria was one of the moon preistesses. Why she lived in Lor'Danel instead of Moonglade was a mystery to them all. Crying could be heard from the outside of the room, and Alanania rushed Iinside. Silloria stood outside for a moment before running in behing her aunt. She was hugging the preistess, saying, "It'll pass, Dentaria. Don't you worry about him. He'll be okay." Watching the two of them was absolutely odd. Alanania had grown up with Dentaria, and they did everything together. It was highly likely that both would die fighting side by side with the other. They would be buried next to each other, and they would rest in the stars with every other great warrior or Moon Preistess. It would be awful if the end came at different times for them. They'd both be devastated.

"...Dentaria?" Silloria voiced, making her presence known. Alanania left Dentaria's side only long enough to rush Silloria out of the room. She sighed and made the walk to her parent's house on the beach strand alone, carrying her backpack full of things for the ceremony with her. Today was absolutely terrible so far- and the challenge hadn't even began.


	2. The Ceremony Begins

Silloria hated her parents sometimes. When she got home, they didn't ask how her trip had been. They didn't hug her and tell her how much they missed her. She hadn't expected that, but she also hadn't expected to immediately have to about preparing for the ceremony. She had to explain to her mother what happened to her leg, and she just said "You need to be more careful." Before Silloria knew it, her mother was calling over a priest to heal the wound with magic. Silloria didn't voice her objections, instead quitely counting the ways she could kill a stag or bear that decided to attack her while she was in the forest. It was what she needed to focus on anyway. Killikng a bird or rabbit or even a baby deer for food would be simple enough. But once a bear or stag got up close, there wasn't much she could do. It was part of the ceremony that she was supposed to bring back a pelt from something. The ceremony was supposed to be a dusk, and if they weren't ready by then, it was put off a day. Though Silloria wished for this scenario, she was almost positive it wouldn't happen.

And, sure enough, there Silloria was, standing on a bridge at dusk, a long black dress with long sleeves that hid the weapons underneath her clothes. A knife at each arm, a sword at her side, a bow and a flat bag of arrows on her back. This was all she was allowed. This and a small bag of food for her first night in the forest.A bag she wouldn't necessarily need, but it was helpful in the fact it could give her a day to relax. Or work on her shelter- which she would have to build herself. The crowd on the Lor' Danel side of the bridge was a mixture of concern, confusion, and hatred. Silloria knew almost every one of them- their names, their age, favorite game, who they despised, why they were in Lor' Danel, everything. She was quite fond of them all, or she had been before she turned thirteen and suddenly her birthday was her fault. Tradition taken too far, that was a Night Elf specialty. Silloria stood like she was ready for war, and that was necessary with these people. Otherwise you would look weak and they would give you their false pity. That's the last thing Silloria wanted, to be looked down on even more. So she stood her ground with venom in her eyes.

Her parents stood under a near by tree, and they had the nerve to look worried. Oh don't worry, Silloria thought, I'll get out of the mess you put me in just fine. Honestly, the two of them were so fliippy-floppy on their opinions. They'd do anything to look like the good guys, Silloria was sure. Even sending their only daughter into the forest for a week. Deep down, she knew the two of them did love her like parents should, but that didn't make it hurt any less when they acted like she was inconvenient. One second she was the most perfect thing in the world, their entire world, but then she was treated like a curse on the couple. She couldn't help but be a little was their fault that she was born, so why did she have to go through all of this? None of it made any sense! Weren't Night Elves supposed to be the more sensible of the races? Sometimes, Silloria really wished she was human. Or draenei. Or maybe a worgen. Anything was better than this, she just knew it. An outcast in her own race. What could be worse?

The ceremony went without a problem. And when everyone was asked if they had a reason why Silloria shouldn't be in this ceremony, the only person who looked conflicted was Aunt Alanania, and she had to leave immediately. The woman wasn't as strong as she was made out to be, and Silloria knew how much Alanania wanted to speak against this. Yet, Silloria was finding herself angry with her aunt, too. One statement from Alanania could stop the madness of this ceremony and end the problem. But Alanania the great druid of the Cenarion Circle did not even speak a word, but she ran away. Absolutely pathetic.

The mages of the town- including her father, grudgingly- transported her to the forest with some portal magic. Why she couldn't just walk off was beyond her- maybe it was for flair, maybe it's just how things were. Silloria didn't really care anyway, she was too busy trying to figure out a shelter. The best she could find to build with was some logs. Not bad, but not great either. She quickly removed the knife with seraded edges from one of her arms. She removed the other weapons, too, but she set them all aside. The knife she used to saw some of the branches. It wasn't supposed to storm- a rarity in the part of the woods they had put me- so I settled for building a lean-tu. After bundling the wood together to the best of her ability, Silloria cut out a square- minus one side- to put up the sections in. Nearly a perfect fit. Well, wasn't that just great? She was an outcast, and she was part of some stupid ceremony because her parents messed up some tradition, but hey, at least the lean-tu would go up easily! Sometimes she really wondered what was keeping her from running off.

Silloria stopped once the first wall was up. Honestly, what was keeping her there? She loved these woods- she had every inch of them memorized. Well, almost memorized, but who could memorize something in nature? It wasn't possible. There was nothing to keep her from running- well, she didn't know where she would go, for one. Maybe she could run south, make it to one of the Alliance camps there. Work for a while, then buy a flight somewhere else, and work again for a while. Maybe she'd make it to Stormwind eventually. But even as good as that sounded, Silloria couldn't imagine running away being a good thing for her or anyone else involved. She looked down a close path, beaten into the ground by the paws of Nightsabers and such. "I need to leave.. why can't I just run?"

She didn't know it then, but the answer was making its way into the woods, his long red hair and pointy ears hidden by a gray hooded cloak, debating how he would get by now that he was on the run from his own faction. Then again, he didn't know why he went to the forest instead of the sea, either. Fate was finally at work.


End file.
